Short fiction: “Bettina”

1.

I am looking out the master bedroom window on this evening in early June. It’s not light anymore but it’s not dark yet, either. From Dad’s bedroom window I watch the younger neighborhood kids trying to squeeze in as much silliness and running around as they can before they get called in for bedtime. I see Mrs. Walker sitting out on her front step smoking a cigarette while talking to someone on a cordless phone. For…

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